


Disasters in no time

by saltandlimes



Series: Visions of a child [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6470827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to <a>The Chief Curse of the World</a>. </p>
<p>Anakin watches over his grandson. Maybe he can't speak to him, can't reach him, but he can watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disasters in no time

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Pawan Mishra "Knowledge that can make miracles happen needs to be guarded carefully. If it falls into the wrong hands, miracles become disasters in no time."
> 
> Chapter title from John Irving "In increments both measurable and not, our childhoods is stolen from us - not always in one momentous event, but often in a series of small robberies, which add up to the same loss."

Sometimes Anakin wonders why he does this. He can no more help Kylo now than he could when he was alive. He feels even more powerless now, if that's possible. Perhaps it is because he should be able to do something. He should be able to speak to his grandson, to comfort and guide him, just as he speaks to Luke on the infrequent occasions that his son calls to him, and not to Obi-Wan. (He learned years ago that dropping into Luke's consciousness unannounced makes his son uneasy, and so he has decided only to come when called). Yet Kylo, or Ben as he is known (although Anakin can't seem to think of him that way), calls to Anakin more frequently even than Anakin had imagined when he saw those infrequent visions of the boy. He should be able to speak to him, but he cannot.

Anakin knows the Force does not allow all things. It is a painful pill he swallowed long ago, when in his desperation he crept to Naboo, to the crypt where Padme had been laid, and tried to force her body to breath again, her eyes to open, her heart to beat. Some things are not possible. This though, this should be.

But there is nothing Anakin can do to make the Force allow something that is prohibited or being prevented in some way, and so he simply watches, a silent specter at Kylo's shoulders, a guard for his son and grandson. 

Kylo is a smart child, yet sensitive in a way Anakin finds terribly familiar, flaring up when his father teases him, curling into himself with hurt. If Anakin himself never let anyone see the pain that flashes so obviously across Kylo's face, it does not mean he did not feel it. The continual movement, as Leia tries to rebuild a republic long dead and buried, the inattention from his young parents, those are things Anakin has no reference point for. Shmi was more caring than he ever deserved. But the snickers around him, the desperate need to prove himself, that is something that Anakin remembers in spades.

And he remembers the weight of constant expectations. 

As the son of Princess Leia Organa and General Han Solo, and stronger in the Force than anyone recorded save Luke and Anakin himself, Kylo is constantly reminded of his duties. Perhaps not overtly, but Anakin knows the weight one puts on oneself simply knowing of others' expectations. Now, at ten, Kylo pushes himself harder than even Luke thinks is wise. 

It's been two years since Kylo came to Luke to train full time, but he has been learning about the Force since the moment he was born. At first, as a young child, meditation came easily to him. Anakin was continually impressed by how much easier Kylo found it than he ever did. As Kylo has gotten older, though, this has changed. Now, looking at him shifting fitfully on a cushion in one of the new temple's training rooms, Anakin wonders what happened to that peaceful boy. He can feel Kylo in the Force, can feel the way his mind warps and drifts, lacking the oneness that is so important. It is not that Kylo has trouble connecting to the living Force around him, not that at all. Rather, he shifts through it, bends it about himself instead of allowing himself to fall inside it. 

Kylo is getting more and more frustrated, annoyed at his own inability. His eyes flick open, young face twisted in annoyance. Then he takes a deep breath, tries to settle himself again. Just as he has done so many times, Anakin reaches out, tries to help Kylo find that place deep inside himself. Yet he is little more effective here than in a vision or dream. Somehow he cannot reach Kylo through the Force, despite begin able to sense him in it. 

Kylo's eyes fly open yet again. This time he bounces off of the mat, stalking (as much as a child can) from the room and letting the door bang closed behind him. Anakin follows him to the practice yard, wondering as he does why he tortures himself this way. Yet he cannot leave Kylo alone, cannot help but keep watch over the boy he loves so much. 

Kylo pulls a wooden practice blade down from the wall, starts to warm up. He moves through forms Anakin himself used to teach, murmuring to himself under his breath. Anakin moves closer to hear. 

“'Practice these exercises mindfully, and you'll see improvement. I promise.'” Anakin starts a little. They are his own words, a line from a training recording he made late in the Clone Wars to demonstrate new modifications to form IV. As Kylo starts to run through the stances, counting under his breath, Anakin sighs. Funny to think that Luke is still using the old holocrons to teach his students, that Kylo is, in some way, learning from Anakin. 

He can feel Kylo's mind calming, can feel him blending with the Force. This, too, Anakin finds familiar. How he has trouble with meditation, yet the moment a saber is in his hand, even this flimsy wooden imitation, he is immediately able to loose himself to the rush of the Force throughout his body. It was the same for Anakin himself, especially just after Obi-Wan began to train him.

“Solo!” It's one of the other younglings, a floppy haired boy of about twelve. He's flanked by a twi'lek and another human, both just a little older than Kylo. “Practicing again? Don't you ever do anything else?” Anakin sighs to himself. These three can't seem to leave Kylo alone. 

Anakin is the first to admit that Kylo isn't the most popular student at the temple. More often than not, when Anakin looks in on him, he is alone, working through some exercise set by Luke or running endless rounds of saber forms. Yet most of the other students seem to neither dislike nor like him. Most know of his short temper and avoid spending a lot of time with him, yet they are not blatantly unfriendly. These three are a different matter. They take any moment they can to torment Kylo. Anakin wonders why Luke doesn't put a stop to it. Then he reminds himself that Luke is one man, trying to train an entire generation of new Jedi. It's almost an impossible task. 

“Becoming a Jedi requires determination, Kath,” Kylo replies, keeping the practice saber moving even as he speaks. Anakin feels a quick flush of pride. Kylo is skilled already, even at this young age. The floppy haired boy, Kath, snorts. He pulls another wooden saber off the wall, tosses it between his hands.

“You know, Jedi don't fight imaginary enemies, Solo. I doubt you'd get half the praise you do if you were fighting a real opponent.” Kylo flushes and Anakin sighs. Just about the only thing Kylo ever earns any praise in is saber practice. His connection to the Force is stronger than any other student, but his ability to control himself lingers far behind. Trust a bully like Kath to pick at the one thing Kylo is actually proud of. 

“Want to find out, Kath?” Anakin sighs again. Fighting between younglings is prohibited except with a teacher present. Yet, of course, Kylo suggests it. Rules seem to have little hold on his mind. 

“You wouldn't dare. Not without your uncle here to call a stop to it after you get beaten.” Kath's voice is mocking, yet Anakin senses a spike of triumph from him. 

“I think you're just scared,” Kylo responds. Kath grimaces, makes his way to where Kylo stands in the courtyard. 

“First to yield loses?” Kylo nods in response, then doesn't hesitate to launch himself at Kath, bringing the wooden sword around in a tight curve. The blades clack as Kath counters strike after strike. The older boy is good, almost as good as Kylo. Yet not quite good enough to move from the defensive. Finally, Kylo feints to the left, the twists the blade at the last moment, bringing it around to crack against Kath's ribs. The other boy doubles over, winded. Kylo slams the flat of the blade against his shoulders, driving Kath to his knees. 

Anakin isn't sure the other boy has enough breath to speak, but Kylo doesn't seem to care. Kath hasn't yielded yet, so Kylo brings the blade back around to smack against Kath's left shoulder. Kath falls to one side, hands held in front of him. He seems to have finally gotten his voice back.

“Yield,” he rasps out, panting. Kylo steps away after a second, but Anakin can see the flame deep in his eyes. 

“I don't need Master Skywalker to protect me.” He says, and hurries out of the yard, tossing the practice saber away to clatter on the tile floor. Anakin sighs again. He will have to speak to Luke about Kylo. Perhaps then he can make some difference. 

***

Occasionally Anakin checks in on a different boy. This one, he never tries to speak to. Brendol Hux Jr. is about as Force sensitive as a Loth cat, and wouldn't take kindly to the appearance of a ghost. In any case, what would Anakin say?

“Hello. I'm keeping tabs on you because you and my grandson will be very important to one another one day.” Anakin laughs to himself. It's too absurd, and Hux would find it more than a little disturbing. 

He doesn't watch Hux as much. Only every so often, to keep tabs on what's going on his life. Usually all he sees is Hux in an endless series of classes, sitting in a stiff backed chair and pouring over copious notes. Every so often, though, Anakin finds him bent over a worktable, tinkering with something. These are the moments he likes best. 

Today is one of them. Hux is staring down at what seems to be a disassembled astromech droid, carefully wiring a circuit. Anakin's fingers itch to join in, to point out a weak point in the relay to Hux. Yet even as he watches, Hux notices the error, corrects it. Anakin smiles, as does Hux, then watches as the boy loses himself in the work. At sixteen, Hux is tall, with whipcord lean muscles and a shock of red hair. Even now, in the workshop, it's gelled back perfectly. It's almost comical, given Hux's rolled sleeves and the smears of grease that have worked their way up his bare arms. Yet Anakin has yet to see Hux look relaxed. 

Thinking back, he cannot remember ever seeing Brendol Hux Sr. looking less than perfectly coifed either. Like father, like son, it seems. Yet this Hux has none of the air of disturbing ambition that his father always gave off. Rather, there is an almost palpable desire to impress, to prove his worth. Ambition, perhaps, but of a different sort. 

The door bangs open and a slightly shorter boy comes in. He's just as dark as Hux is fair, and seems about the same age. He looks around for a moment, then spots Hux in the corner. 

“Hux, Ashforth needs you in the sim room.” The other cadet's voice is clipped, authoritative. Hux sighs, then nods. He sets down the hyperspanner and moves to the large sink at the corner of the room, scrubbing down his arms, washing away the last of the grease. Down come his sleeves, and a tunic is pulled over. He looks every inch the perfectly pressed cadet. The other boy snorts then leads the way out of the room. 

This is the point at which Anakin would normally leave. He doesn't really need to observe Hux, simply needs to remember how young he becomes a general to know that Hux does well here. Yet today, for some reason, Anakin follows Hux and the other cadet down the corridor, curious to see how Hux behaves around others. 

They're almost to a bend in the hall when an arm reaches out from an open doorway, grabs Hux by the shoulder. He's pulled inside in a second, the door slammed closed. Anakin is left in the hall, but it is a simple matter to reform himself on the inside of the room. When he recenters his consciousness, the first thing he sees is Hux being held against a wall by a meaty cadet, an arm tight to his throat. The other cadet is snarling, but Hux looks almost bored. 

“Thought you could get us into trouble and not suffer for it, huh, Hux?” The heavy cadet snarls. “You were wrong. We don't care if your father is the fucking commandant. No one messes with us.” Hux merely looks exasperated now.

“Apparently, I do,” he drawls. Anakin sighs too. Trust Hux to get himself on the wrong side of a pack of bullies as well. No wonder he and Kylo are well suited. “Anyway,” Hux continues, “you had it coming. Misuse of First Order property like that shouldn't be tolerated.” Muscly cadet isn't the only one to growl this time. The two other boys in the room look just as annoyed, and Anakin wonders a little at Hux continuing to antagonize them. It doesn't truly seem wise. 

“You know, I don't think he'd be as brave if he didn't think his father would come and save him. That's how he gets all those good marks, after all,” one of the other cadets remarks. Hux isn't bored now. Instead, he's the one looking angry, a snarl twisting his handsome face. 

“My father has never done anything to fucking help me, and you know it. Don't fucking talk about what you don't understand.” And with that, Hux slams a fist into the nose of the boy holding him against the wall. He quickly slips away from muscly cadet as blood pours from the larger boys face, dancing around to the other two. 

Anakin is frankly a little surprised to see how well Hux fights. There are a few quick jabs that take care of the cadet who came to fetch him from the workshop, leaving him doubled over in pain on the floor. Then there is only one left. He's apparently a little closer to Hux's level, for Hux takes a glancing blow on a shoulder before he can catch the last cadet's arm behind his back, wrench it tightly enough up that the boy raises himself on his tiptoes to prevent his shoulder from being dislocated. Hux's voice is a hiss as he speaks into the boy's ear.

“Don't you ever bother me again. I don't need my father to fight my fucking battles, and unless you all want to learn that even more comprehensively, you'll leave me alone.” With that he lets the other cadet go, stalks out of the room.

It's only then that a grimace of pain crosses his face. Anakin watches him raise the hand he'd used to punch muscly cadet in the face up for a closer inspection. Even without being to feel it, Anakin is certain that it's incredibly painful. One of Hux's fingers has started to swell, and it seems to be broken. Hux sighs. Then he's headed back down the hall to the workshop as though nothing has happened. 

Hux washes his hands throughly when he gets into the workshop, then wraps his finger in a makeshift splint. For a moment Anakin wonders why he isn't going to the medbay, then remembers Hux's clear desire to keep this away from his father. He can't help but feel a flare of sympathy for Hux, especially as the boy moves back to the droid he was working on. For the first few moments everything seems normal, despite the pain Hux must be in, but then the boy lets out a colorful set of swears. 

It seems that he is unable to properly manipulate the spanner with his broken finger. For a moment, his face is washed with pure anger. Then, just as suddenly, it's gone. Anakin watches, a little surprised, as Hux takes a deep breath, centers himself. He sets down the spanner, reorganizes the bench. This time, when he leaves, Anakin doesn't follow. 

It is enough for right now. It is too much. The Empire is gone, the Republic stands again. Things are supposed to be alright. These boys are supposed to be alright. And yet, as Anakin thinks back to the vision of snow, to Kylo lying in a pool of blood and Hux kneeling beside him, he is not surprised. All he may be able to do is watch, but he can watch his grandson, can hope against hope to get a chance to help him before that moment, before Kylo sits sobbing for Anakin's guidance in a dark room on a Star Destroyer. 

All Anakin can do is hope.


End file.
